


Dear Diary

by PureFury



Category: Pentatonix, Superfruit
Genre: Cancer, Gen, Hospital, Nurse Alex, Sick Fic, teenage mitch
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-29
Updated: 2015-10-15
Packaged: 2018-04-17 23:04:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4684607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PureFury/pseuds/PureFury
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mitch has cancer. He's been in this children's hospital for over two years and still is called a miracle boy for surviving this long. This is his story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. ~Dear Diary 02/08/05~

I have been a permanent resident here at St Andrew's hospital for sick children for a long time. I've been here for so long that I have watched two system overhauls, twenty-two staff birthdays and one redecoration of the cancer ward; and trust me when I tell you that they don't redecorate all that often. 

Here is my sob story: I'm a seventeen year old teenager who has been stuck in this hospital for over the last 2 years. The fact that I've lasted this long is a miracle to everyone but I can feel that I'm on borrowed time. I am sick, very sick. It's difficult to find a organ that hasn't been impacted by the cancer. It hasn't reached my heart though and I don't know if that is even possible but it's really seeping into my bones. My mom always joked that it's because I have a strong and large heart. 

Many of the things the doctors say simply go over my head but I don't really try to pay attention much anymore; I don't see the point. They tend to talk to my mom anyway as they think that I wouldn't understand. I've been here so long that I kinda know most of the medical jargon they use about me. It's not a great feeling to be treated as an infected object rather than simply a person.

I peered up at the clock, it was on the far wall of the ward so I had to squint to make out the numbers. It was nearly time for Alex to be coming in. Aside from my mother, he was the only person who I liked and saw everyday but he was paid to be nice to me. Alex was my nurse and he really was kind to me so I got the feeling that perhaps he liked me too.

As per the routine, the door to the ward burst open to reveal the smiling face of Alexander Kirk. His light blue scrubs made a noise as his legs rubbed together while he moved. His white tennis shoes squeaked across the polished floor but, just like all medical staff, he seemed oblivious to the sound. His unwavering bright smile remains on his face as though it was tattooed there. Brown hair was styled into a gentle quiff of sorts. At least it kept the strands away from his bright eyes. 

"Mitch!" He calls, happiness flowing within his tone. He's on his way to my bed so I don't know why he feels the need to address me before he's reached me. I'm not bitter about it though, he's just an optimist and a positive force. "How you feelin' today?"

"Hi, Alex." I answer with significantly less enthusiasm. "What'cha got for me today?" 

I side track the question since I'm sure he's bored of my everyday answer of 'Not bad'. I'm fed up of that so he must be tired of its repetitiveness too. I choose to say 'Not Bad' because it means that I don't feel bad but it also means that I don't feel great or even merely good. Therefore, it's not quite lying. As you can see, I've had a lot of time to think about this. 

With an encouraging smile, he places a tiny paper cup, similar to the kind that holds sauce in McDonald's, of pills into my outstretched palm. It's the same as usual, one for pain and two others for other things... I don't really know what. I think my doctor once explained it to me but it was two years ago when I first arrived. 

I swallow all three down at once with a swig of stale water from yesterday. Taking pills was practically a skill of mine now. As they say, practice makes perfect. 

"I'm sorry, Mitch." The nurse starts, looking guilty. He hated giving patients pills; in some ways, he was way too kind to be a nurse. Covertly, he slides a glossy magazine onto my bedside table. We both don't acknowledge the subtle gesture as per tradition. Nurses weren't supposed to treat patients differently, especially when other people can see (A curse of a large ward) but Alex brings me a fashion/gossip magazine religiously every week. I guess it's because he feels sorry for me and happens to know that I like keeping up to date with everything going on even from inside this hell hole. 

He asks if I want anything before getting me new water and telling me that the breakfast cart will be around soon. With that, he continues he rounds to see the other patients in the children's cancer ward. Next up is the only one that I even remotely like, Avi.


	2. ~Dear Diary 02/09/05~

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We meet Avi and meet Mitch's new doctor, Scott Hoying.

I hate The Fault in Our Stars. No offence to the author but since the book was released, everyone seemed to associate my disease with romance and spontaneous trips to Amsterdam. From my experience, that just doesn't happen. Aim not saying that there aren't some lucky people but... I suppose, I just meet the unlucky ones.

Avi hadn't heard of this book until I explained it to him in great, cynical detail. A friend gave me the book as a gift when I left for the hospital as they heard that it was a good book and about cancer... I don't think she realised that one of the people with cancer in the book die (Without revealing any spoilers). I guess she thought it was one of those encouraging books where everything turns out okay. I wonder if she's actually read it herself...

Don't get me wrong, I understand why people like it but I simply don't. Way too many metaphors to handle. 

Anyway, Avi sympathises with me sometimes. He'll come and perch on the edge of my scratchy hospital blankets and we'll talk or watch a movie. I guess he's the only kind of friend I have in here. I'm not sure if we're just friends because of the proximity. I like to think we'd be friends in the real world. 

He has long hair on his head because, unlike my chemotherapy, hair is only lost in the area where his radiotherapy is applied. I don't actually know where his cancer is but I know it's not in his head. His hair is dark and so are his eyes but they seem to become a brighter shade when he is having a good day. Recently, Avi has being having more bad days. 

He tells me that he's fine but I can hear each time he asks for more morphine or fentanyl to numb the pain. He's only a few months older than me but his treatment isn't going so well or perhaps his cancer is more aggressive, I'm not sure which. I don't really know as all consultations happen in the doctor's office away from the prying eyes and ears of the ward. 

I can see he's in pain now with dark, stormy eyes. I don't understand how he keeps smiling and being so happy even with the pain. When I have pain, I shut down. I barely want to move let alone speak with anyone. I never hurt as much as him though, I can tell. Chemotherapy makes me feel crappy though. 

He takes a lot of pain medication and Alex or Kevin, the regular nurses, comes several times a day to give him another dose. 

I guess what I'm trying to say is that I feel weak next to him and I feel so inadequate. Usually, when compared to other people, I come out well since you've gotta be strong to last so long like this but when I compare myself to him... Well, I try not to. 

He returns to his bed, where he has the curtain drawn, but I can't really see him a way as he's down the other end of the ward. I think he's gotten tired but doesn't want to worry me. He's kind hearted like that.

I begin to flick through the magazine when I am interrupted by no less than an angel... I over exaggerate. He's really the new doctor. 

"Mr Grassi?" A smooth voice intones.

I look up, shocked by the person's sudden presence, to see a smiling doctor with blond hair. He is so tall that the typical white coat hangs much shorter than it should. His sky blue eyes never leave me, making it seem as though, for some reason, I am the most important person in his world. I wish I really was. By now I know that it's all Doctor tactics to make you feel safe and important. They're probably taught it in medical school since every doctor seems to be able to do it. His gaze watches me intently and, for a moment, I'm so very glad I could blame the heat of the room for my blush.

"Mitch?" He asks again when I didn't answer. I curse myself for being so easily distracted. I should have answered! Why didn't I answer... Oh yeah, I was staring at his face... I really need to get a grip.

"Yes?" I finally pull myself together. Blinking up at him from where I was lying on the scratchy bed covers.

He seems pleased that I responded. I guess he was scared that I wouldn't warm to him or something. His smile stretches further, flashing the straightest and whitest teeth I have ever seen. How is there possible? Perfection shouldn't exist... Perhaps he's an angel?

I snap myself out of it when he speaks, "Hey, I wanted to come and introduce myself. I'm your new doctor, Dr Hoying, but please call me Scott."


	3. 02/26/05

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mitch just wants Coffee and really don't want therapy but midnight conversations with Avi turn out well.

~  
It is so dark as all the lights in the ward are out and there is no moonlight breaching through the windows but I am still awake. I guess I have a lot to think about so my mind is just racing, unable to rest. 

I listen, there is almost complete silence apart from the distant cars and occasional ambulance. I wonder what the time is but I can't bring myself to physically look. My whole body has been aching today. It almost feels as though the miracle boy is loosing his miracle... Or maybe today has just been a bad day. 

The air is still and thick, I feel alone in the dark. My father left when visiting times were over as he has work in the morning. They feel bad for not sitting with me everyday but I understand that after 2 years, you have to work. 

"Mitch?" Avi. The voice made me jump. The stillness was broken by my name. It was whispered like a prayer. 

I swallow, contemplating whether to answer or fake sleep, "Yeah?" I whisper back.

I don't know why we're whispering since we are alone on the ward. There is nobody around to wake up or disturb. Nobody to listen in. 

"The doctor likes you."

"Which one?" I already know which one. "Dr Hoying?"

There was a light ruffling of bed covers as Avi shifted in his bed, "Yep, he spoke about you today in my appointment and asked about you."

Warmth spread in my chest as I thought over the words, "He's nice, friendly... I like him."

"Yeah... Me too, Mitch." I always forgot how low his voice was until his words slowed down and voice dropped in sleepiness. 

I decided not to answer after that. It didn't feel necessary. 

\---

"When can I get my coffee." I huff with my arms crossed like a stubborn child. I don't care if I seem childish; it's been absolute months since my last sip of the caffeine goodness so I'm taking a stand.

Alex smiles and is about to answer when someone else speaks.

"Trust Mr Grassi to still be talking about coffee. You'll get a few drops soon enough."

I roll my eyes, "I don't want a few drops, I want full 24/7 access to a Starbucks!" I know I'm throwing a diva strop but... What can I say? I'm a diva.

"Such demands. I take it you're feeling okay today?" He asks me, suddenly looking concerned again.

I'd been pretty sick last week, I'd had nurses in and out all the time simply checking on me. Some days are just better than others and I had a few rough days. That's all, "I've been okay for a while." 

"I know," He answered with a sparkle in his eye, "I've just gotta keep checking. It is my job."

I shrug. The constant questions always annoy me but they're doing it for my health. Sometimes I wish they'd just give up... It was this attitude that made me wind up in therapy. Apparently, I need help "dealing" with the situation. My parents agreed as soon as my old doctor had suggested it. I wasn't so keen. 

\---  
The therapist was nice though. She was a young woman with blonde hair, usually in lose curls. Her eyebrow piercing didn't fit the same stereotype as her professional clothes but I like her never the less. Kirstie.

"Mitch!" She'd always wave me in and ask more questions. I hate the questions. It's hard to make her understand that I'm mentally fine but just have some bad days like everyone.

The chairs are sagging from overuse and it practically engulfs me when a lower myself down. It's nice to sit down again p as my body has been aching on the walk through the hospital. I try not to sigh as the weight leaves my muscles.

"How've you been?" She leans closer as she speaks.

I groan internally, "I've been kinda sick but just the usual." 

"Have your friends been visiting?" It was a question that she always started with as though to ease me into the session.

I shake my head, "Not for a while." I mumble and peer around the room. It was small and I suppose it was supposed to be cosy... A bit claustrophobic with rubbish. Nothing of value which would be at threat from teens with anger issues. A few pictures here and there try to add some of her youthful personality about the stereotypical therapist room.

The rest of the therapy goes as usual. Me leaving feeling no different but Kirstie sat there thinking she's changed a life.


	4. 02/19/05

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mitch gets some good news. Avi doesn't .

I am waiting for him to collect me... That sounds like I'm talking about the grim reaper so now I'm laughing and Avi is looking so confused from across the room. I'm trying to be quiet so he can go back to The Fault in Our Stars. He's a deeper person than me so I guess he'll like it more. He's already halfway through.

Anyway, I'm not waiting for the grim reaper, I am waiting for Kevin to come and get me for my appointment with Dr Hoying. I hate these check ups as I usually leave needing more drugs or something. Nothing good ever comes from these. 

I can see Kevin coming down the corridor and the knitting sensation is back in my stomach.

~

"Okay and finally, just hop onto the scales for me." Scott asks gently, like he's trying not to scare me off.

I do as he says and he notes down the weight without a word. I know that means it's bad. That always means that it's bad.

"I have some good news." Dr Hoying says. I'm surprised. "You can go home over the weekend."

I can feel my mouth drop and I probably look like an idiot but I don't care. I've only been allowed home on special occasions, a handful of times over the last years, but I know there will be conditions.

"But there are conditions," Dr Hoying starts, predictably, "If you feel ill, you must come here straight away... No waiting to see if it'll pass, okay? Also, a travelling nurse will visit once a day to make sure this trip won't be taking too much of a toll on your body." He already knows that my parents will barely take the eyes off me too. 

I nod. I know the conditions because they're the same every other time. As I've gotten worse they've become more extreme though. I miss the carefree days where you could just go outside without checking out with your doctor and having to bring piles of tablets or medication. Even the shortest trip required stacks of planning. 

"Okay then," Scott smiles and my stomach flips. He has a really nice smile, "I've spoken to your parents, you'll be leaving in two days, on Friday." 

I can tell everyone is happy for me or perhaps they're just glad they don't have to care for the dying boy everyday. I try to think it's the first one, everyone here is so nice. Alex grins at me when he brings me my medication. I guess everyone knew about the plot to let me out except for me. I wonder if they told Avi.

\---

"You ready?" My dad asks as he grabbed my bag from beside my hospital bed. 

"Yeah, let me just say bye to Avi." I answer while jumping off the bed. My dad moves to wait outside.

My cheeks hurt from grinning. In the last few months, every attempt to let me home had to be rescheduled due to an operation or visit from specialist doctors. I can't remember the last time I felt this happy.

"Avi!" I call as I walk the short distance to his bed. The Fault in Our Stars sat half finished on the bedside table. 

He raises his head slightly off the pillow but can't find the energy to move much else. He is pale and his breathing is laboured. When Avi has a bad day, it is so terrible you think he is on the brink of death for every second. I guess his cancer is more aggressive than mine even though he's only been here for a handful of months.

He manages a smile, "Hey, Mitch." His voice quieter then either of us anticipated. 

"I'm going home for the weekend." I tell him but I know he's heard me speaking about it nonstop over the last couple of days. I haven't really spoken to him since the nurses pulled the curtain around his bed. That's usually a signal that someone needs their rest. I hate the curtain.

"I know." He doesn't sound bitter or jealous. Somehow he is able to be genuinely happy for me despite his own situation, "That's exciting. Get to sleep in your real bed." 

Avi loved his bed at his house. Whenever we spoke about what we missed most, his bed was always top of the list followed by real food. He values his sleep and the beds on the ward don't really allow for a perfect night. He is right though, being in my real bed will be a treat.

"I know. I can't wait." I look over my shoulder to where my dad is waiting beside the door, "Look, I gotta go but I'll see you on Monday. Just feel better soon so I can tell you all about sleeping in my bed." I chuckle.

"I'll live through you." He chuckled. "See you Monday."

I hope Avi does feel better. Seeing someone so strong being so sick is strange.


End file.
